You talk too much
by Love2readaway
Summary: He always talks too much, but sometimes he knows what to say, sometimes he says the right things, and some other times he knows when to shut up. ONE-SHOT


**Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe, though they have found their own way into my heart.**

* * *

"_Only in her navy blue silk panties, Heat lay on her tummy on his bed. Rook came back from the bathroom with a bottle of Freesia Bloom massage oil in his hand. Climbing on the bed, he settled on her hips and gently brushed her hair aside. From the corner of her eye, Nikki saw as he poured some oil on his palms and rubbed them together before leaning down and starting working on her shoulders. His touch was warm, his fingers skillfully loosening all the knots in her tense muscles. Her eyelids closed, the delicious flower fragrance enveloping her. He worked her back and then moved to her legs and feet._

_In slow motion, his hands slid his way back over the length of her slick body until they reached her neck. Nikki sensed as he hovered above her head and gently feathered his lips over her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder. His mouth ran down her spine as if he was now using his lips to massage her. When Rook reached the waist of her panties, his mouth moved to brush over her side. She slowly turned around; his lips didn't leave her skin. He kissed her stomach as his hands moved up her waist, his pads caressing her breasts. Her fingers twined in his short hair, her heart hammered inside her chest and her breathing became shallow. His hands were back on her hips, and a few fingers slid under the blue lace fabric. He started pulling the panties down, the movement so slow she barely felt it. His lips kissed every inch of new skin that he revealed, his hot breath-"_

"Enough," she breathes out.

Kate can't take it when he's talking to her like this. Her heart rate is picking up, all because of his words. His amazing choice of words, the way he can describe anything with his words. And his voice, so soft and deep, with a hint of roughness. His warm breath caresses her cheek. And every time he pauses between sentences, his lips will tease her earlobe, her jaw or the crook of her neck.

After dinner, they'd walked out to the beach, just a dozen feet from the porch of his Hamptons' villa. He sat on one of his beach chairs and she settled between his legs, leaning on his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. He pulled a blanket over them both, and they watched as the sky grew dark and the stars appeared.

He had wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her warm. But then he started to talk, and now she's starting to feel hot. A few beads of sweat are forming on the back of her neck and rolling down over her shoulder blades. It was partially her fault; she was the one that asked him to tell her what he'd last written about Nikki and Rook's adventures.

"You talk too much," she whispers because she doesn't trust her voice, can't really keep the slight tremor out of her tone. He's quiet for a moment. She knows he's studying the side of her face. Then, he slowly leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her neck, over her pulse point. He stops, and she knows he has figured it out. He has felt it, with his lips, with his tongue; her accelerated heartbeat. She feels him smile against her skin.

"You want me to shut up?" he murmurs, his breath washing over her skin.

"Yes," she answers in a whisper.

"You want me to be quiet?" he feathers his fingertips up and down her arms.

"Mm-mm," she nods once.

"You want to feel the breeze on your face," his voice grumbles in her ear. "You want to _enjoy_ the sound of the crashing waves?" he emphasizes the last word.

One of his hands is under her shirt, skimming over her stomach. Goosebumps appear on her skin, and they both know it's not because of the cool temperature. The hand moves up, and he grazes a thumb over the curve of her breast.

"You are so soft," he whispers. His fingers slid down over her belly. "You are so warm."

Her breath is picking up. His hand continues downwards…and further down. It slips under her pants and under…

"Castle," she gasps, her breath hitching.

"Mmm?"

"What are you-" she stutters breathless.

He is… his fingers are… _Oh god! _She bites on her lip to muffle her panting. Even so, a moan echoes in her throat. One of her hands finds his on her stomach; his other hand is… _Good Lord! _Her fingers lace with his, and squeezes them tight. Her eyes close. Her right hand strongly grips the edge of the chair. His lips are kissing her jaw, the crook of her neck, the skin of her shoulder… Her chest rises and falls with every heavy breath she takes. All her muscles tense, her knees bend, and her toes curl in the sand. Her back arches up, her hips push down. Her nails dig into the skin of his palm…

…She reaches her high peak and comes undone around him…

Her grip on his hand and chair loosens. She takes deep breaths and slowly blinks her eyes open. He holds her tight against him, brushes aside her hair, stuck to her sweaty forehead, and kisses her temple. He rests a hand over her heart, beating strong inside her chest. They are both quiet for a few minutes, the washing of the waves over the sand and the squawk of a seagull the only sounds around them.

"You like it better when I _don't_ talk?" he murmurs. She tilts her head and looks him in the eye, her face serious. She just stares and nothing else. She's speechless. He takes that as an invitation and leans down to press his lips gently to her mouth.

* * *

**And? What do you think? Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading!**


End file.
